“It was the best milonga ever, wasn’t it? All kinds of different music, everybody there somebody we know. Little miss cutie was having fun.”
“She’s a good follower. I was thinking about the times we went out dancing before. Way back. Before you were on the show. And that time in Oregon.”
“Oh my God, Oregon.” They’d been in Eugene, pausing their return from vacation to put in their offer for the Faux Chateau. There was a dance studio across the street from their hotel. When they went over to see what was happening, it was an Argentine tango class and practica. “We should go back there someday.”
“We could do that whole trip again someday.”
“Stay longer everywhere.” Andy was smiling, and he could tell even in next to no light that Victor was too. “Do the whole Shakespeare festival in Ashland.”
“Jesus, yes. You could take your show up there.”
“Holy shit, yeah! Goddamn, Victor, I keep thinking we’ve planned things out so far ahead we’ll never catch up and then here’s something else.”
He leaned in for a kiss. “Table that idea. We’ll discuss it after you’re done with your English movie. Oh, and by the way, it’s our show.” Another kiss.
“You’ve been an idea machine. All the staging you come up with, it’s great.”
“It’s writing, kind of,” Victor said, almost hesitantly. “Taking one of those lines and thinking of who we’re putting in the role and then coming up with the scene that makes it work. I really like it.”
“I can tell.” They were lying close together, skin to skin, both mildly aroused. It always happened when they were this close, especially if they
were kissing. Andy knew he could turn this into lovemaking with a word, or a touch. But somehow the whole evening had felt like lovemaking. And they had nothing to do the next day. Nothing but what they wanted to do.
Glorious, amazing, incredible nothing. He changed position, settling them in a way he knew worked for sleeping. Kissed Victor’s forehead. “I love you.”
Victor let himself relax against his husband. He could have initiated something. All he had to do was put his hand on that long lean body. But this felt so good, and there was always tomorrow. “I love you too.”
Chapter 11
September 2019
It seemed that their not-so-subtle maneuvers had achieved their immediate aim, namely getting Loretta and Jim to go out on a date. At least one date. Andy was strongly tempted to interrogate her, but restrained himself. He had photographs to take, and more photos to plan.
Their friend Red Warner – off in London being Macduff – never had collected the dragon-bones throne Andy’d used for the Tempest photo shoot.
It was locked in the storage shed, in the garage. Andy opened up the shed, studied the throne, remembered how heavy the fucker was, and did not try to move it himself. Instead he went next door and wheedled the three men living in the triplex. “You’re all so much younger than me,” he said, trying to look pitifully old and frail.
The ‘so much younger’ part was true; they ranged in age from thirty to forty. The ‘old and frail’ act got a lot of rolled eyes. All of their tenants had seen Andy and Victor in ‘The Ghost of Carlos Gardel.’ The middle guy, Sandesh, had worked on the movie as Tanith’s production assistant. He said,
“With all due respect, give me a break. Who brought it downstairs?”
“I’d rather not say,” Andy hedged, because the answer was ‘me and Adrian the security guy’ and he frankly didn’t want to admit it because he still couldn’t believe they hadn’t both been killed. Getting it up the stairs had been ‘Red and Adrian,’ a combination Andy had underestimated. Red was three inches taller than he was. It was the extra fifty-plus pounds of mostly muscle he kept forgetting.
The eldest, Matthew, said, “Where do you want it?”
“Not up the stairs.” He and Victor had gone over their staging ideas for Kent and Lear several times. All of the Shakespeare images were going to be processed, with layers of effects. The Lear line would be shot in the studio, with a neutral backdrop so Andy could layer in the suggestion of castle walls.
For the Kent line, they’d both agreed that an overtly sensual starting point would provide the best context. “Under the pepper tree, please.” He directed them as they took the throne out and across the backyard, bitching all the way about its weight. “Well, that’s why I came crawling to you. About four feet in front of the trunk, please, on this side so the wall is behind it. Awesome.
Thank you so much.”
The youngest, Sandesh’s brother Lochan, shook out his hands. “I suppose you’re going to want us to put it back.”
“Well, yes.” He gave an apologetic shrug. “But hey, I’m letting Paige get chickens.” Paige was Lochan’s wife.
“For chickens, we can move the throne again,” Sandesh said. “Let us know when.”
“Soon,” Andy said. “Patrick and Dmitri are coming tomorrow. Thanks a lot, guys. We’re grilling on Sunday, so come on over.” He walked them all out his back gate, took a moment to appreciate having useful friendly tenants, and then went to think about things for a while.
With the throne in place, he could finish designing the scene. He’d decided to shoot that line at night, and with the effects he was planning there wasn’t much else to add to the set. He got himself a drink and positioned a lounger so he could sit and watch how the evening light changed, and how the throne looked after the piazza lights switched on. After a while he went up to the studio and found the velvet wizard’s robe he’d used for the Tempest shoot, draping it over
